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Rufus
Rufus is really, really out of place on Greville Street. It’s hard to spot too (look for the solitary, Victorian-style street lamp). Upstairs, waiters are dressed in nice jackets and bow ties. Old jazz standards play quietly. You kind of expect to run into your parents.

But don’t worry about that. Sink deeper into the plush lounge. Order a Grasshopper (that’s an ’80s cocktail nobody makes anymore, with crème de menthe) and a Martini-glass full of strawberries and thick cream. A cigar would really complete the fantasy – oh wait, they have those too.